Then Helen walked down to Mrs. Clarkson's boarding-house, all for the purpose of showing a lady there, with a skirt to make over, just how she had seen a similar garment rearranged exquisitely. And Alice strolled down to the gate with her to say good-by; and they had so much to talk about that Helen walked Alice nearly to our house, and then insisted on her coming the rest of the way, so she might be driven home. And then Mike was sent back with a note to say to Mrs. Mayton that her daughter had been prevailed upon to stay to evening dinner, but would be sent home under capable escort. And after dinner was over and the children put to bed, Tom groaned that he must attend a road-board meeting, and Helen begged us to excuse her just a minute while she ran in to the doctor's to ask how poor Mrs. Brown had been doing, and she consumed three hours and twenty-five minutes in asking, bless her sympathetic soul!
The dreaded ending of my vacation did not cause me as many pangs as I had expected. Helen wanted to know one evening why if her poor, dear Tom could go back and forth to the city to business every day, her lazy big brother couldn't go back and forth to Hillcrest daily, if she were to want him as a boarder for the remainder of the season. Although I had for years inveighed against the folly of cultivated people leaving the city to find residences, Helen's argument was unanswerable and I submitted. I did even more; I purchased a lovely bit of ground (though the deed stands in Tom's name for the present), and Tom has brought up several plans for cottage-houses, and every evening they are spread on the dining-room table, and there gather round them four people, among whom are a white goods salesman and a young lady with the brightest of eyes and cheeks full of roses and lilies. This latter-named personage has her own opinions of the merits of all plans suggested, and insisted that whatever plan is adopted must have a lovely room to be set apart as the exclusive property of Helen's boys. Young as these gentlemen are, I find frequent occasions to be frightfully jealous of them, but they are unmoved by either my frowns or persuasions—artifice alone is able to prevent their monopolizing the time of an adorable being, of whose society I cannot possibly have too much. She insists that when the ceremony takes place in December, they shall officiate as groomsmen, and I have not the slightest doubt that she will carry her point. In fact, I confess to frequent affectionate advances toward them myself, and when I retire without first seeking their room and putting a grateful kiss upon their unconscious lips, my conscience upbraids me with base ingratitude. To think I might yet be a hopeless bachelor had it not been for them, is to overflow with thankfulness to the giver of
Helen's Babies.
Transcriber's Notes
Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Other variations in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation and accents remain unchanged.